


A Cliche In Love

by camichats



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, Getting Together, Light Angst, Mild Sexual Content, Oblivious Tony Stark, Sex Worker Natasha Romanov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-15 20:28:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17535692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camichats/pseuds/camichats
Summary: Natasha is a prostitute, and Tony mistakenly thinks that she doesn'treallylike him.





	A Cliche In Love

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for kink bingo Clothing: Corsetry

It was such a cliche to fall in love with a lady that worked at a whorehouse. That didn't stop Tony from doing it anyways. It had been normal enough at first. He'd looked at the various ladies selling their time and chosen the one that caught his eye. He offered her the cash, and she took it with a smile, telling him that her name was Natasha as he kissed her knuckles. She'd been good, and it was enough to bring Tony back the next night looking for her. He visited for the rest of the time that he was in town, but then it came time to go back to Manhattan. He wanted to tell her goodbye, but at that point it had been more like a crush than being in love. 

The next time he was in Malibu, he stuck his head in to see if she was around. She was, so he visited her every night for that visit as well. The time after that was when it really got him. It wasn't a week-long business trip, it was moving into his beachfront summer home while he oversaw the opening of the newest factory. He spaced out his visits that time in an effort to not grow too attached, but it didn't work. It was still too much like a routine of coming home to his girl. 

Natasha was... gorgeous. And she made Tony believe that she was happy to see him every time he showed up. He knew, intellectually, that she was faking it for the money, but he couldn't see it with his eyes and that made it impossible to convince himself that she didn't mean it. When he left for New York after that, it felt like he'd left a piece of himself behind. He tried to sketch her, but his technical drawing skills did not transfer to people. 

He tried to draw her hair, her eyes, her hand, and her leg, but all of them looked wrong and he threw them into the fire angrily. Frowning at nothing, he didn't notice what his hand was drawing until it was half finished. It was his favorite corset that she wore, a red and black masterpiece that, in Tony's opinion, made her look more cute than sexy, but maybe that was the smile on her face. He loved every single time he got to take that corset off, unlacing the front and opening her up like she was the world's greatest gift. He hadn't done it yet, but he did want to spend a night with her when they didn't take it off at all. He left the drawing as it was, knowing that if he tried to complete it now that he was thinking too hard about it, he would butcher it entirely. He closed his sketchbook and set it aside and got to his feet, wondering at what point he became so pathetic that he saw fondness where there was just money. He didn't blame Natasha for it in the slightest-- she was just doing her job, after all-- but he should have known better than to grow that attached. 

He didn't know what he was going to do about it, especially when Pepper told him that they were moving the base of Stark operations to Malibu now. He figured that he would try to stay away, but that didn't even last two days after they arrived. 

He sat down at the bar when he didn't immediately see her, telling himself that if he didn't see her in the next twenty minutes he'd leave. Unfortunately, after he made that decision, she showed up forty seconds later. She grinned when she saw him, sliding into the seat next to him. "Hey Tony. Word around town is that you're moving here permanently. Any truth in that?" 

"True enough," he said with an incline of his head. "Foreseeable future, not sure I'd say permanent." 

Her smile faded when she saw how completely unenthused he looked. "I thought you liked the Malibu weather. Or were the complaints about snow just for show? Not that I'd blame you, I miss Russian weather sometimes. I was disappointed when you didn't show up yesterday when you came to town. Had to wear the same corset two nights in a row hoping you'd show up." It's true that she was wearing her favored black and red one, but Tony doubted that it was especially for him. God he really needed to snap himself out of this. 

"How many offers of exclusivity have you had?" Tony asked out of the blue as far as Natasha was concerned. 

Natasha blinked. "What?" 

Tony shrugged, shoulders tight as he poorly pretended that he didn't care. "How many people have offered to take you home with them?" 

"Not as many as you're imagining." 

"What makes you think I'm imagining anything?" 

She raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't have asked if you weren't thinking about it." 

"There's a leap between thinking about it and what you're implying," Tony said, because like hell was he going to up and admit it, even if Natasha clearly already knew. Not to mention that this was hardly the most incriminating thing he'd said to her. 

"I'm not implying anything. I'm saying-- to your face, Tony-- that you should come out and say to me whatever it is you want to say." 

Tony didn't react well when cornered, which was probably why he decided to shoot their relationship in the metaphorical face with a shotgun. "Fine, I'm saying that you don't have to make conversation because that's not what I'm paying you for." Since he was also a coward, he all-but shoved her off his lap and left the building. He stormed home, slammed the door behind him, and immediately wanted to drink himself into a stupor. What the fuck. What the actual fuck had he been thinking? Natasha didn't deserve to be treated like shit, especially since she hadn't done anything and got caught in Tony's own fucked up emotions. 

He jumped when someone knocked on the door, turning to open it before he even knew what he was doing. Of course then he was face to face with Natasha, who-- surprisingly-- didn't look like she was there to punch him in the nose. 

She had her hands on her hips, her skin glowing in the light of the setting sun. She looked formidable, though someone else may not have thought so, with her corset and the ruffled skirt and her hair pinned back in an artfully messy style so that strands of her red hair were brushing the side of her face. While she didn't look like she was about to punch him, she did look serious and, in a word, unhappy. "You don't get to insult me and then run off." 

Tony winced, running a hand through his hair in shame. "Right. I'm sorry, I never should have said that. You don't deserve it, and--" 

"You're damn right you shouldn't have said that. Do you think I give a shit about any of my other clients?" Natasha said, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Do you think I pay attention to what clothes they like on me and wear them when I think they're going to show up? Because I don't. I don't care about them. They can go rot." Tony blinked. "The only person I care about is you. Well, and my friend Clint, but I haven't seen him since I moved to Malibu so he doesn't count," she added with a roll of her eyes. "Any time I hinted to you that I wanted something other than a client/companion relationship, you brushed it off. Then you show up and ask me if I'm interested in being with you, and then you run off before I can really give you an answer." 

"I... think I'm an idiot." 

"Well I could have told you that a year ago. The question, Tony, is what are you planning on doing about it now?" 

Tony fumbled. "Uh, taking you on a date? When you're free?" 

Natasha continued to glare at him. 

"Or... now?" he guessed. 

"You're not good at this," she stated. 

"I thought you just said that you wanted a real relationship. I'm... okay I'm completely confused. Why don't you tell me what you want me to do? That way I can't fuck it up. Or you could do it yourself, I wouldn't mind." 

"Well if you insist." She put a hand on the center of his chest and pushed, making him back up until there was enough space for her to step inside. She stopped pushing as she kicked the door closed, and moved so her arm was resting on top of his shoulder. "If you weren't so sweet Tony, I would question my own sanity right now." She stepped into him and kissed him, threading her fingers through his hair. It was something they'd done a dozen times, but it felt different. Maybe it was the conversation they'd just had, but more likely it was the fact that they were in Tony's home instead of at the inn in one of the temporary rooms. She dragged Tony's bottom lip through her bottom teeth as she pulled away, then immediately went back in to nip at it against because really lips that full deserved to be bit. She looked past him and saw a chair that was... the perfect size. She nodded at it. "Sit over there." 

Tony figured that even if she did tell someone how quickly he listened, they wouldn't believe her. Not that he was ashamed, but when people thought they had something on him they never shut the fuck up. He wasn't thinking about any of that at the moment though, because he sat down and saw Natasha stalking towards him. 

She pulled up her skirt in two bunches for her hands so that she could climb onto his lap without the fabric getting in her way. 

Tony gulped as his hands automatically went to her hips. 

"We're not in public anymore," she said, an amused smile playing on her lips. She grabbed his hands and put them on her ass, rocking into his touch. 

"Right." He swallowed again. "Right. Just uh, getting used to this." His eyes were drawn to that perfect, gorgeous corset on her, and he licked his lips. "Will you leave this on?" 

Natasha grinned. "Absolutely."


End file.
